iPoem · 7434.1068.910.316 · Cent mille milliards

1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone

5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb

Based on Raymond Queneau’s A Hundred Thousand Billion Poems, The 100,000,000,000,000 iPoem is a non-commercial artistic project inspired by Queneau’s work and the tradition of literary variation it inaugurated.
→ iPoem 7434.1068.910.316 (no. 799,955) was generated on October 21, 2026 at 2:41 am
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